HERE TO WATCH GIRLS, CHAPTER Ten: Curve (10 OF 14)

[protoneoromanic.livejournal.com]

Title: Here to Watch Girls
Author: ProtoNeoRomantic
Betas: Gilescandy & porkwithbones
Rating: Mature (work as a whole bordering on NC-17, but really just because of that one chaper a few chapters back)
Paring: Giles/Willow, Giles/Buffy, Giles/Cordelia, Giles/other female characters
Word Count:  1732 (this chapter)

“How can you *not have* a computer?” Willow asked for perhaps the tenth time as Giles drove the car past her parents' house and around the block.

“I have to deal with the dreadful thing in the library,” he mumbled, his response having grown progressively less polite with each iteration. “Why on Earth would I want one in my home?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Willow countered as he pulled to a stop on the cross street and parked in front of a neighbor's house, less than a block away but well out of sight of the Rosenberg's front door and windows. “Maybe in case of an emergency?” Her mock-casual tone sharpened towards honest exasperation near the end.

“Point taken,” he mumbled, chastened for more reasons than one. She was cooperating, helping him attempt to free Buffy despite everything she had learned in the last two hours, including the relevant details of his recent sexual history. He couldn't afford to get impatient with her, and she certainly didn't deserve it.

“Don't worry,” she assured him, reading his mood if not quite his mind. “It's only 4:00. I doubt anyone is even home. Dad probably just came home at lunch and left the porch light on. And even if he is home, I can still probably run in and grab my PowerBook without him even noticing. I don't know if I'll be able to get the modem, but maybe I can rig something up to tap into the Sunnydale MAN through your phone lines with my Ethernet card and remote in to one of the City Hall computers to get on the Net and/or hack directly into the Juvenile Court's computers if they're on the MAN too, which they might be.”

“Erm... yes... I'm sure that would be most....” Giles didn't actually have a reasonable ending planned for that almost sentence. So, he stopped, embarrassed. He'd never thought or cared much about computers one way or the other, but that didn't mean he felt comfortable being found in such an abject state of ignorance regarding something that seemed as though it would clearly have been useful to know.

As she was getting out of the car, Willow leaned over and gave Giles a quick, casually affectionate peck on the lips. He was so startled, he barely kissed her back. But he did kiss her back. And it felt strangely natural. Friendly. Casually romantic. Like they were partners. Exactly like. Giles sighed and tried to concentrate his full attention on cleaning his glasses. To avoid thinking about the terrible mess that was his life, and, thanks to him, now hers.

Hey, you could do worse. Hell you've done worse this week. I hardly think Buffy— So not who I meant. I love Buffy. I meant the girl from The Fish Tank. Oh God, don't remind me! *Sapphire*. Soooo not her real name! Without a doubt, Giles agreed, feeling all the more rankled, ready to change the subject.

Kind of a laugh they even let her in a place like that, the demon kept on. I bet she's not sixteen, let alone twenty-one. She started it. Giles pointed out, though he knew perfectly well that his companion didn't give a tinker's damn. Anyway, at least she doesn't go to Sunnydale. I'd guess Catholic School the Demon agreed conversationally. They had both kept an eye out the last few days and had never seen 'Sapphire' on campus.

Look, for once could you just not, Giles pleaded impatiently. Hey, I was quiet almost the whole time you were talking things out with your little girlfriend, the demon pointed out, fairly truthfully. But it was silent for a while. Giles felt several minutes pass. I can't believe you gave her fifty dollars, the incubus continued, clearly too bored to keep quiet any longer. Should have haggled. Anyways, they're not supposed to wait and ask after. That's extortion. And witness tampering, more to the point. Which is nothing to haggle over.

Willow should be back by now. Oh well, her parents must be home after all. Probably grounded her. Wanna go to The Fish Tank? Ha. Ha. But you do want to go to The Fish Tank. That's beside the point. You know this little rescue mission is only going to land all three of you in big trouble with the law. I'll risk it. But is that really fair to Willow? More than letting the world go to hell, I dare say. All right, the demon admitted. You got me there.

Another longish silence ensued. Giles glanced at the dashboard clock. Willow had been gone fourteen minutes since he'd first checked it, some time after she'd left. That was too long. He reached for his door handle. Oh no! The incubus warned. Don't make me hurt you. I have to go, Giles argued, though while he argued, he did retract his hand. I have to find out—exactly how angry and suspicious her father can get? Giles sighed, running a hand through his hair. The creature had a point actually.

Well, but I can't sit here much longer without arousing suspicion, he pointed out. No, and she can't contact you here either, because you still don't think you need a mobile phone. You just want a number we can give out without women finding out where we live. Come in handy right about now, though, wouldn't it? Let's just drive by and see if we see anything. Yeah, all right.

What they saw was nothing much. Except that the aforementioned porch light had been turned off. Giles would have given quite a lot to be able to see inside the garage, let alone the house. Well if you'd just let me pos—No! As it is I'm relying on only what you're able—No! All right, fine, what's your plan then? Giles was passing the house for the second time now, not counting the two circuits he'd made twenty minutes or so ago. Just let me knock on the door. If he answers I'll tell him it's a membership drive for the PTA or something. All right fine, the fiend agreed, half petulantly.

Rather than circle again, Giles park in front of the house two down from the Rosenbergs'. He got out, walked back to their door, and rang the bell. A minute or more passed. He rang the bell again. More time elapsed. He knocked. Three times. Progressively harder. That's a bit much for the PTA. Giles looked at his pocket watch and cursed. It was 4:45.

When the Rosenbergs' garage door started opening itself, he cursed again. As he made his way briskly down the front walk, towards the street, a late model black Lexis pulled into view, stopped in the driveway, and rolled a window down. “Can I help you?” a fortyish chestnut-haired woman asked in a way that, despite her synthetically 'friendly' tone, clearly meant something a lot more like 'Who goes there?'

“I erm, hope so,” Giles gave her the charmingly sheepish smile for all he was worth. “I was looking for Willow Rosenberg.” You bastard! Coming from you...

The woman's brow furrowed, then light dawned. How do you lie to me *while* I'm reading your mind? Spontaneity. And practice. “You must be from the school?” she guessed, opening her car door and preparing to get out. Giles made a small nod of acknowledgment even as the woman he was (ever less tentatively) calling Dr. Sheila Rosenberg continued to speak. “I thought Ira took care of that.”

“Erm... yes, well, this may be a slightly, slightly different matter.”

Sheila smiled vaguely and looked at her wrist watch. “Well, I wish I could help you,” she said. “But I need to get inside and get my things for my Thursday evening class over at the University.” With that she walked past him, clearly indicating that he'd been dismissed.

Not sure what else to do, Giles started back towards his car. About that time, a not-quite-so-late model green BMW pulled up next to Sheila in the driveway and Ira Rosenberg (whom he had seen but not met at the December school board meeting when he'd been officially hired) leaned out the window and said, in a very genuinely friendly tone, “Ah, you must be from the school. Thanks for rescheduling. Go on in and have a seat while I park the car.” No! And your better idea is?

Sheila hardly seemed to notice that the librarian had followed her into the house and taken a seat on her sofa as she rushed around a bit and then rushed out the door, not bothering to cross paths with her husband, who walked in from the garage a scant minute later. “Willow told me about the fire,” he explained conversationally as he entered the living room and extended his hand. “I hope those two girls are all right,” he added when they had clasped flesh and exchanged names. “I'm afraid you just missed Willow. I dropped her off at a friend's. Honestly, I didn't exp—remember that Sheila said she'd take care of making a new appointment.”

“Yes well, actually...” Giles admitted. What the hell are you doing now? “I wouldn't know about that.” What do you want me to say when he finds out from Flutie or Barton that they haven't actually sent me for whatever it is? “You see. What with the fire and... well, I'm actually trying to track down any books that may have survived due to being lent out or...” Ooo, nice one!

“So you're not here about all the classes Willow's been missing or the assignments she hasn't been turning in?”

Bugger. “Erm... No. I was looking for a couple of advanced math books and uh one or two poetry books I thought she might have. We've lost the circulation records as well you see, so...”

Ira sighed heavily. “So Sheila didn't actually call Ms. Barton back,” he pronounced in a very crisp, not all that questioning tone, developing a frown.

“If I may...” Giles asked, “which friend was...? Well, if it's someone on my list, then I may as well...”

“Xander Harris,” Ira replied, “but you won't catch them. His friend Jesse got there just as I was leaving. They were going to hit the old Drive-In, then go over to the Bronze.”